


The Truth Will Out

by BunnyBopper



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Crossdressing Kink, Dom Severus Snape, Dom/sub, Edgeplay, Edging, Humiliation, M/M, Masturbation, More tags to follow, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Remus Lupin, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rope Bondage, Smut, Spanking, Sub Remus Lupin, Unhealthy Relationships, Veritaserum, Wolfsbane Potion, canon compliant until ootp then who knows?, wolfsbane spiking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:02:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26448979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunnyBopper/pseuds/BunnyBopper
Summary: When Severus spikes his Wolfsbane with truth potion, Remus reveals something neither of them expected.
Relationships: Remus Lupin/Severus Snape
Comments: 104
Kudos: 245





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: potion/drink spiking

He knows something is wrong before the potion even touches his lips. 

He hasn’t taken it often, possessing neither the opportunity nor the means to gain access to such an elixir. ( _Non-essential_ , the ministry told him). It’s not until now that he has been deemed worthy. At first, he’d felt only gratitude. Gratitude and overwhelming relief. But over time, a resentment had taken root inside him. Not that he would ever let it show, of course. He would still nod solemnly at the simpering smiles his colleagues would give him every month and pretend not to notice as they inched their chairs just a little further away from him. He would bear it all with a stoic grace, as he always had. 

He hasn’t taken it often, no, but he’s taken it enough. Enough to know that the smoke rising from the goblet is just slightly the wrong shade of cerulean blue. Enough to know that the earthy scent it gives off, like leaves rotting on a forest floor, is just a little too strong. 

Severus Snape stands before him, holding out that silver tray as always, but there’s something different about him too. The fear is still there, evident in the way he positions himself in front of the room’s only exit, being sure to never once turn his back to Remus. Hatred too. It’s written all over his sneering face, in the way he holds himself. Rigid. Defiant. Despite their difference in height Severus always seems to tower over him. So different to the lanky schoolboy he once knew who developed an almost permanent hunch in his effort to make himself as small as possible. How their roles have been reversed. 

He brings the goblet to his mouth, watching Severus all the while. Everything’s the same except his eyes. Something other than contempt glitters behind them. Anticipation? 

Remus stares straight into them as he swallows the potion in one go. 

A clatter fills the air as silver hits stone floor. Other than that, there’s not much drama to the whole thing. No foam comes forth from Remus’ mouth. His hand doesn’t leap up to claw at his own closing throat. Instead, all he feels is a slight dizziness and an overwhelming urge to flop down hard into the chair that has somehow appeared behind him. So, he does. In an instant, he is bound to it. 

His vision swims in front of him but he can make out the exultant smile that covers Severus’ face as he stares down his hooked nose at him. His wand is drawn, still smoking from where black cords of rope sprang forth from it moments before. Cords that are winding themselves ever tighter around his wrists and ankles. 

“What have you done to me?” he groans. 

“Nothing you need to be concerned about provided the blind trust the Headmaster places in you is even slightly justified.” The tip of his wand comes to rest under Remus’ chin and tilts his lolling head upwards. “You shall be feeling your normal self soon,” Severus smirks. “Well, almost.” 

And miraculously he is. All of a sudden, the room comes back into focus and he can sit upright without fighting the urge to vomit. He tugs at his bindings. Once. Twice. Before quickly realising any attempt at struggle was a pointless waste of energy. Energy that he puts into shouting at Snape instead. 

“Just what in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing?!” 

Severus presses his wand harder into Remus’ neck and brings his leering face in closer. “I’ll be the one to ask questions if you don’t mind. We’ll start with a simple one – are you the werewolf named Remus John Lupin?” 

Remus opens his mouth to spit a few choice profanities at the man, something he wasn’t in the habit of doing but felt the current situation called for it. So, he’s shocked when only a simple ‘yes’ comes out. Severus stands up straight and steps back, not bothering to hide his triumph. It slowly dawns on Remus what’s going on. 

“The Wolfsbane…did you-” 

“Add Veritaserum? Indeed. You are catching on quicker than I’d expected Lupin. And I’m pleased to see you don’t seem to have much resistance to it.” 

“But that’s dangerous is it not?!” 

The smirk disappears from Severus’ face. “There was only a ten percent chance it would stop your heart,” he says, sounding rather disappointed by the odds. “But I thought it was worth the risk if it means catching a murderer.” The excited gleam returns to his eyes as he utters the final word. 

“A murderer? What are you-” 

“How have you been helping Sirius Black into the castle?” Severus interrupts, slamming his hand down on Remus’ desk by way of punctuation. 

“I have not.” Although Remus is fully aware of his innocence, he can’t help but feel a great sense of relief as he hears himself form those words. 

Severus’ black eyes narrow at him but he doesn’t hesitate for long. “Where is Sirius Black hiding?” 

“I don’t know,” Remus says, harsher this time, more confident. 

“Have you had any contact with Sirius Black whatsoever since he was sentenced to life in Azkaban on the fifteenth of November, nineteen eighty-one?” Severus’ voice is rising to betray just a hint of panic. 

“No.” 

Remus catches the brief look of horror that passes over Severus’ face before he turns away, leaning against the desk to compose himself. Remus can only imagine the mental gymnastics he must be performing in order to justify what he has done, to both himself and Dumbledore. He feels a smirk creep across his own face. 

“You’re a fool,” he says to Severus’ back as he watches him run an anxious hand through his own greasy hair. “Are you really so blinded by a schoolboy grudge that you would show such blatant disregard for the law?” 

“That ‘grudge’ is the very thing that defends my actions!” Severus spits, whirling back round to face him and knocking off a pile of unmarked essays and causing them to scatter across the floor in the process. He steps over one, uncaring. “I am one of the few who truly know what you are capable of!” 

“What are you talking about now?” 

In a flash, Severus is upon him. His hands grip tightly onto Remus’ wrists, still bound to the arms of the hard, wooden chair. He brings his snarling face in close. “You know full well. It wouldn’t be the first time the two of you have teamed up now, would it? Just how disappointed were you when that little plot to kill me failed?” 

“I never plotted to kill you.” 

The deadpan words that come out of Remus’ mouth are at odds with the great many emotions he is feeling. But truth potions didn’t care about emotion, only facts. Despite the fact being that he still dreams about that night. Haunted to this day by what might have been. 

Possibly more so than Severus himself, who bears his uneven teeth at him before opening his mouth, probably to call him a filthy liar, but the words die in his throat as he remembers their situation. Remus couldn’t lie even if he wished to. He jerks upward and away from him, still not quite believing what was plainly in front of him. 

“So, it was true then?” he whispers. 

Remus nods, knowing exactly what Severus is referring to. Remembers running down the dungeon’s dank corridor, grasping hold of the gangly boy’s jumper and twisting it around his fist. Remembers the countless apologies. Remembers the fist that came down hard on his jaw in response. Remembers giving up far too quickly. 

They look at each other for several moments. Severus is so lost in his incredulity that he forgets to sneer at him. Remus takes the opportunity to flash a sympathetic smile. A smile that he hopes will be the start of a new understanding between them. 

Remus drops his gaze down to the cords that continue to bite into his wrists. Severus follows it, looking mortified. 

“I, err, imagine you want me to untie you?” he asks. 

It’s hard to tell which of the two is more shocked when Remus answers: 

“No.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus reflects on what just happened.

Remus waits until he hears the latch of his office door click into place before burying his mortified face in his hands and letting out a long, muffled groan. He walks over to his desk, still groaning, and wonders how what had just happened... happened.

***

“I – ah – come again?” Severus had said, clearly confused.

“I don’t want you to untie me," Remus had repeated, feeling his face catch fire as the Veritaserum gave voice to a desire he hadn't even known was there.

Severus had stood over him, arms crossed. Remus hadn't been able to look at his face, so had stared down at the man's black laced shoes. He'd never noticed how polished they were before.

“You don’t want me to untie you?” It had been difficult to tell, but Remus had thought he could detect a hint of amusement in Severus’ voice. “Why on earth would that be?”

“Because I want you to-" For the first time since the truth potion entered his system, Remus clamped his mouth shut to cut off the words desperate to spill out of his mouth. But they kept coming, a muffled chorus bouncing off the back of his teeth. At one point he thought he was going to drown in them.

Eventually, Remus broke. (Because of course he had: sheer force of will was no match against a potion made by the expert hands of Severus Snape.) Then he'd had no choice but to sit, bound to the chair, and listen to his own voice as it calmly list off a string of perverse acts. Things that, ordinarily, he wouldn't allow himself to fantasise about in his most private moments.

There were several torturous moments of silence after that. If he had been in that situation with anyone else – anyone with a shred of decency about them – they would have untied him immediately, offered a series of awkward apologies and never spoken about it again. But apparently, Severus did not have a shred of decency about him.

In his humiliation, Remus had shut his eyes, but still, he sensed Severus move closer. Heard the subtle swish of his robes, the clack of those gleaming shoes against the cold, stone floor. Felt the soft, surprisingly sweet breath against his cheek, the hand that came to rest lightly on his upper thigh, the vibration of his low voice.

“My goodness,” Severus had said softly into his ear, “I would never have guessed timid little Lupin would have such… persuasions.”

Severus had let him go after that – a snap of his fingers and the cords fell away, leaving Remus feeling somehow more exposed. “Another time, perhaps,” he’d said.

***

Remus supposes he'd got off lightly, he’d half-expected Severus to continue his torment, to make him spill more of the sordid details and watch him squirm. The very thought of it makes the blood rush to his groin. He hadn't realised what it was at the time, but from the moment he had been bound Remus had felt the thrill of arousal cut through the anger and fear. And now he was safe, it was the only thing left.

Had he always been like this? Was he so pathetic, so starved of intimacy that being tied up and humiliated by a man that hated him left him hard and aching? Or did he just value himself so little he thought that was all he deserved?

He leans over his desk, shifting uncomfortably at the tightness of his already too-small trousers. Even though he knows it's a mistake, his hand wanders down to palm himself through the fabric. The light touch only makes the need even more unbearable. Feeling strangely powerless, like an outsider watching himself do something appalling, Remus unbuttons himself with one hand, braces himself against the desk with the other. Cursing himself (along with Severus) under his breath, he wraps a firm hand around himself and tugs.

At first, it’s basic, mechanical. Just something needs to get done and out of his system. But soon he’s losing himself, hips juddering as he thrusts his leaking cock into his own hand again and again. The image of Severus fills his mind- not that it’s ever really left it- looking down at him in coldly. What would he say if he could see Remus now?

“Fuck,” he hisses. His body stiffens, back tight and arching as his pleasure mounts, spills over his pumping hand until he’s bent almost double, taking deep, shuddering breaths to try and right himself as quickly as possible. The bliss of release evaporates as he's hit by a heavy wave of shame almost instantly.

He's hasn't even finished putting himself back together when there's a knock at the door. In a vain attempt to calm the panic rising within him, Remus coughs theatrically before loudly announcing that he would 'just be a moment'. He smoothes out his rumpled clothes, brushes his hair back out of his face, and rushes to answer, still half-convinced there will be something to betray what he’s just done.

“Am I... interrupting something?”

Severus stands before him with a smirk on his face, holding out Remus’ nightly dose of Wolfsbane as if the past two hours never happened. He doesn't pause for an answer, isn't expecting one. Remus' face - flushing scarlet and reeking or suppressed guilt - has told him everything already.

“I tried calling out to you before you left,” Severus continues, “but you were in such a hurry...”

Remus begins to contemplate just how far he could get on the last of this month's salary if he just packed up his belongings and left Hogwarts – no, the country – right this very moment.

Before he can do just that, Severus, still smiling wickedly, thrusts the goblet into his hand. "You still need to take this; you should know by now that any additions render it useless."

“What makes you think I would accept so much as a glass of pumpkin juice from you now?!” Remus exclaimed after regaining his voice.

"I agree," said Severus softly. "You'd be quite mad to trust me again...well, mad or desperate...but I have no desire to - ah - interfere with you again. I’ve got all the information I needed...plus a little more I hadn't quite...expected."

Embarrassment flaring again, Remus snatches the goblet and downs it in one just as before. He has a fair point: Severus has no need to spike him again now he knows the truth, and no reason to harm him now he's certain that Remus isn't a threat. Plus, if the potion does kill him, at least he'll be spared being mocked by Severus for the rest of time.

Severus seems surprised at first, but the wry smile is back in place by the time Remus is handing back the cup with what he hopes is a dignified air. Their hands meet and Severus allows the touch to linger a moment too long. It's electric.

“So, which are you, Remus?" he asks, shifting almost imperceptibly closer. "Mad?” - he takes Remus’ chin into his hand, tilts it upward as though he were inspecting him - “Or desperate?"

The reply catches in Remus' throat as Severus places a finger over his mouth, drags it across his lips ever-so-lightly.

"On second thought," he says, "don't tell me. It'll be much more interesting to find out for myself..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and comments! I love you guys!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The waxing moon comes around and Remus is forced to see Severus again.

Remus knows he should tell the Headmaster what happened (with one or two details spared of course) but the more he’s thought about it, the more he understands why Severus resorted to the most extreme of measures to get to the truth. It isn’t hard to see how, in his desperation, Severus’ perspective became twisted. No-one (other than Remus himself, perhaps) would be more motivated to locate Sirius Black, after all. 

There was also the fact that he _needed_ Severus. If Dumbledore sacked him for misconduct, or the ministry carted him off for unauthorised use of Veritaserum, Remus would have no choice but to leave Hogwarts as well. Severus kept him safe after all. 

So Remus decided to keep quiet and act as though nothing had happened. Several weeks had passed, Remus’ transformation had been and gone, and Severus, too, seemed content to act as if everything was normal and had gone back to ignoring Remus at every opportunity. Whether it be in the corridors, at the table during breakfast, or even at the monthly staff meeting, Severus acted as though Remus wasn’t there. Which was fine with Remus: he’s quite happy to forget the whole thing. 

At least, that’s what he tells himself during the day - the nights are a different story. 

At night, Remus’ head is filled with Severus; Severus tying him down, Severus stripping him, Severus making him give voice to every perverse thought that’s flitted in and out of his head throughout the day, Severus refusing to let him come until he’s satisfied Remus has spilt every sordid detail. It’s that last image that always causes him to break his resolve, has him touching himself in a hot and hurried frustration that always ends, too quickly, with Severus’ name on his lips. 

In the mornings, he takes a long, scalding shower, and is slightly less disgusted with himself by the time he’s finished. The only time Severus had so much as looked at him was during one of these (particularly shame-ridden) mornings. Remus was running late and, instead of drawing attention to himself by traipsing through the Great Hall in the middle of breakfast, had decided to nip into the staff room for at least a coffee to get him through the day. He hadn’t noticed Severus sitting there, eyeing him over the Daily Prophet, until he was half-way through pouring and almost ended up scalding himself. Severus’ eyes bored into his and Remus was so shocked that he couldn’t look away. He said nothing, not even a customary snide remark, but Remus thought he saw his lips pull into a smirk before his face was covered by the paper once more. 

By now, Remus has convinced himself the whole thing is one-sided; the product of one who longed for intimacy yet felt wholeheartedly underserving of it. Yet, Severus’ words still linger at the back of his mind, causing a rise of conflicting emotions and unanswerable questions whenever they force their way to the forefront. 

_...it’ll be much more interesting to find out for myself..._

Did that mean Severus did have something up his sleeve? Was he just biding his time, waiting until the next full moon? Was he thinking up a new way to humiliate him right this moment? Each time Remus asks himself these questions he feels a gut-twisting thrill of excitement, and each time he squashes it back down. 

When the waxing moon creeps around again, slower than it ever has before, Remus retreats to his office early, imagining Severus will want to get the forced interaction over with as early and as quickly as possible. He waits, becoming more and more agitated as the hours tick by, but Severus still hasn’t arrived long after the student curfew has set in. Was he not coming? Had he decided to give up brewing Wolfsbane without even having the courtesy to let Remus know? Or was this some kind of test? 

Remus dithers in his office a few moments more before taking a slow, shuddering breath. Whatever the reason, he was going to have to make his way to the dungeons. 

*** 

He stands in front of the door to Severus’ office, clears his throat once, wrings his hands three times, then turns and walks the length of the dungeons’ musty corridor twice, before coming back to stand in front of it. He clears his throat again, with more determination this time, and taps on the door. After several beats, he hears a long sigh followed by Severus’ voice bidding him to enter. 

It’s the first time Remus has been in Severus’ office. He’s there, of course; sat behind a desk that’s littered with various instruments used for measuring out ingredients, several tattered books with their covers missing, and stray pieces of parchment on which indecipherable notes had been scrawled in his unmistakable hand. He’s scribbling something now and doesn’t bother to look up from whatever it is. “I was expecting you hours ago,” he says. 

“I’ve been the one waiting for you!” Remus retorts. Great. Put on the defensive already. “If you’re expecting me to start coming to your office you need to let me know – I cannot read minds!” 

Severus looks at him then, something strange glinting behind his eyes in the low candlelight. “No. You cannot.” There’s an implication behind the words Remus doesn’t understand. His smile is cold, and Remus feels like someone slipped a cube of ice down his back. “Your potion is waiting for you,” he says, pointing to a cauldron that sits on the far side of the room. 

Remus walks over to it without a word. The Wolfsbane sits within the cauldron as promised and nothing about it seems unusual about it this time. There’s a ladle lying casually to the side of it but no goblet to be seen. With no sign that Severus is going to tell him where to find one, and with Remus being too stubborn to ask, he has to scrabble about the room trying to find one for several minutes, the heat rising higher and higher up his neck as he feels Severus’ eyes on him the whole time. 

Finally, he finds one. A rusty old thing but it would do. By now Remus would drink out of Severus’ shoe if it meant getting out of that room. He swallows a measure of the potion, grimaces at the taste as always, but, thankfully, suffers no other ill effect. He sets the goblet down without bothering to rinse it and makes to leave. 

“I know what you’ve been doing.” 

Remus stops dead. When he spins around to face Severus, he thinks for a moment he might have imagined the words for he has gone right back to whatever he was working on, apparently paying Remus no mind. But then he places his quill gently down on the table and looks at him expectantly. 

“What exactly are you accusing me of this time?” 

Severus raises an eyebrow at him. “Oh, I think you could hazard a guess...” 

Remus’ mind instantly turns to the shameful pursuits he’s taken to indulging in. The ones that leave him calling Severus’ name night after night. But there’s no way Severus could know about that, surely. Maintaining eye contact with him is a struggle but Remus is determined not to appear guilty by looking away first. 

“I’m afraid I can’t even begin to,” Remus replies, pleased that his voice remains steady. 

Severus rises from behind the desk in one fluid motion. He’s in front of Remus in an instant, placing a hand on his chest to feel the hard thud of his heart that betrays his composure. He brings his mouth so close Remus can feel the faintest brush of his lips against his. It makes him dizzy. 

“I know you’ve been thinking about me...” Severus whispers, the hand over Remus’ heart drifts lower, reaching the front of his trousers before coming to rest on the bulge that’s steadily forming there. 

Remus can only respond in gasps as Severus begins to stroke him firmly through the fabric. His head whirls with thoughts. A thousand reasons to flee from the room bounce around, drowning each other out in their effort to be the loudest. What keeps him rooted to the spot, though, is the intense, mounting need. 

He reaches to pull Severus closer, tilts his head to close what little distance is left between their mouths, but Severus pulls his head-and his hand-quickly away. 

“Get down on your knees,” Severus says. 

It’s an order. Clear and firm. Remus’ body moves to obey before his brain can hope to catch up. The dungeon floor is shockingly cold. He reaches up to Severus’ own trousers, quick and keen, tongue moving to moisten his lips automatically, but, again, Severus stops him, grabbing Remus’ wrists and pushing him off. 

“Show me.” 

“W-what?” asks Remus. 

“Show me what you’ve been doing while you think about me,” Severus says, a note of irritation at having to repeat himself slipping into his voice. 

“I-” 

Severus places his forefinger under Remus’ chin and tilts his flushing face upward to look at him. Remus can’t meet his eyes, so he keeps his focus on Severus’ mouth, half tilted in a smile that is as cold as ever. 

“If you’ve been using me as fuel for your nightly gratification,” Severus says, looking down at him all the while, “then I think it’s only fair...” 

Remus sucks in a breath. He’s always been a people-pleaser and somehow that extends even to situations like this. 

He inches his knees apart slightly. Slowly, he slides his hand down beneath his trousers and takes hold of his cock. At first, he barely feels anything – the prickle of embarrassment in his neck, as though he’s being stabbed with a hundred tiny needles, is the only sensation he’s able to register. But soon the pleasure floods him, building with each slow, stroke. He releases the breath he’s holding, allows himself to close his eyes- 

“Not like that.” 

-and opens them again. They flick up to Severus in alarm, trying to determine what he’s done wrong. He didn’t understand. Severus had asking him to show him how he did it: as far as Remus knew, there was pretty much only one way. Severus just looks down at him, eyes narrowed with impatience and looking - almost - _bored_. 

Then Remus realises. Of course: Severus would want him exposed. 

His breaths are already coming fast as fear and excitement squeeze his chest. Everything is heightened from being scrutinised by Severus; the chink of metal as he awkwardly undoes his belt, the steady drum of Severus’ fingertips on the desk, the chill air that surrounds his as he bares himself, and the hard throb of his cock despite it all. He looks up at Severus again who doesn’t give him so much as a nod of encouragement, but he’s stopped tapping his fingers so Remus guesses this is what he wants. 

A moan escapes him as the touch of his own hand resumes. This is about the most humiliating thing Remus can imagine. On the ground with his cock out, being forced to touch himself in front of someone he isn’t sure wants to fuck him or kill him. And the worst part is that he isn’t being forced: he wants this. God, he wants this so, so much. 

Severus’ face remains impassive as Remus begins to fist himself openly. The only thing betraying his interest is the grip of his hands against the desk and the unmistakable outline at his crotch, hovering torturously at Remus’ eye level. Somehow, perhaps to compensate for Severus’ lack of reaction, Remus feels as though he has to perform. So, he arches and tilts and parts his lips and groans louder than he ought to, each aspect of the display only serves to increase his own pleasure. 

He must be doing something right because Severus moves closer to him, yet his hips remain just out of reach. The crude, wet sound of made from the movement of Remus’ hand comes faster and louder and it turns him on all the more. Remus wishes he could touch Severus too, aches to take him in his mouth, but he doesn’t dare make a move to again. He knows Severus is going to make him suffer this through to the end. His breath hitches as he nears the edge. 

“Slow down.” 

Remus whimpers. He slows his hand a fraction, desperation threatening to take hold of him. 

“I said slow down,” Severus repeats firmly. “I don’t want you to come yet.” 

With a grunt of frustration, Remus takes his hand away. He looks up at Severus, panting hard, and awaits further instruction. Maybe now they could finally- 

“Did I tell you to stop?” 

Fuck. Remus is dangerously close already, there’s no way he won’t be able to come if he starts up again, and from the look of the smug look on Severus' face, he knows this fine well. But what choice does he have? 

He’s moaning in earnest now, deep groans than could be mistaken for pain, with each agonisingly slow stroke. It’s a matter of moments before he’s reduced to begging. 

“Severus, please, can’t - oh god - can't, fuck-” 

Useless words stream out of him and Severus ignores each and every one. The orgasm is blinding when it comes. Remus at least tries to keep it slow, to draw it out as long as possible to please Severus the most, but he can’t even manage that. His hand jerks wild and erratic and with it comes the familiar warmth of release. 

Tears sting the corner of Remus’ eyes as emotion overtakes him. Part of him wants to scrape together whatever remaining dignity he has and leave without a word; the rest wants to beg Severus for forgiveness for he-isn’t-quite-sure-what. But then he feels a cool hand on his cheek, the soft caress of a thumb over his lips. 

“You did well,” Severus murmurs and Remus is taken aback by the tenderness in his voice. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're going to need a safeword.

"But there's certainly room for improvement." 

Severus hooks both arms under Remus who suddenly finds himself dragged to his feet. He starts putting Remus to rights  immediately, buttoning up the front of his trousers quickly yet carefully, straightening out the rest of his robes, smoothing down his hair. Remus can't speak and even if he could, he wouldn't have the first clue what to say, so he just lets Severus fuss and manhandle him until he's satisfied. Then he puts his hand on the small of  Remus' back and guides him to the door. "Tomorrow night I'll come to you," Severus says pointedly. 

The door shuts and Remus is left to make his stunned and still rather wobbly way back to his quarters. 

The next day passes painfully slowly. Remus is distracted and it shows. He finally got through his day of teaching only to be dragged to the staff room by Aurora. Twice already she’s tried talking to him only for Remus to stare straight through her. The third time she had to  actually snap her fingers in front of his face to drag him back out of the rabbit hole his mind was wandering down. 

"Remus, you're really not yourself today," she says, peering at him with concern. "Is everything alright?" 

"I'm fine I just-" At that moment a flurry of black robes swoops into the room causing Remus' words to come to a halting stop. He tries to recover himself quickly but he's too late: Aurora's noticed. 

She leans in closer to him, raises her hand to cover the side of her face that faces Severus – a pointless gesture as he has his back to them and is clattering cups angrily while brewing another pot of coffee, the two of them having just finished off the last one. 

"Is he making it hard for you?" she stage-whispers. 

Remus snaps upright. "I'm sorry?" 

"You know...is he making teaching here difficult," she clarifies, sending a disapproving glance towards Severus' back. "I heard what happened when he covered your class last time..." 

"What? Oh no, no, not at all, I'm just... a little tired." 

Aurora nods sympathetically. At least his condition is good for something. In truth, he was up half the night torn between wondering what Severus had planned for him today and imagining what he had done about the raging hard-on Remus had left him with. Had he just ignored it? Gone back to his research as if nothing had happened? Or was he touching himself the moment he pushed Remus out the door? Calling out his name the way Remus did for him all those times? Try as he might... Remus couldn't quite picture it, somehow.

"Something keeping you awake, Lupin?" Severus calls out, still turned away from them, spoon scraping loudly against the inside of his mug as he stirs. Had he heard all of that? Probably. 

Remus clears his throat. "Just the usual, Severus," he replies, vaguely polite as always. 

Severus turns around slowly, stares at Remus over his mug before taking a long sip. "Perhaps you should cut down on the coffee. It would leave some for the rest of us, at least." 

With that, he walks out of the room, not staying long enough to watch Remus blink in surprise or Aurora shake her head in disbelief. 

***

After a dinner that mostly involves pushing mashed potatoes around his plate and trying to avoid looking at any of his colleagues (or students - heaven forbid) in the eye, Remus retires to his quarters early. He expects an evening of endless waiting, of worrying his hands until the skin is raw, of listing off all the reasons why this is wrong, wrong,  _ wrong _ only to be interrupted by a zing of exhilaration each time the clock inches closer to curfew. 

So he's taken more than a little off guard when Severus strolls in half an hour later, Wolfsbane in hand, without so much as a knock at the door. Remus drinks it quickly, eagerly, in a hurry to move on to whatever's in store for him, all previous thought to his moral standing forgotten. But, once he's done, all Severus gives him is a bland smile and polite bid goodnight before leaving  Remus’ office as abruptly as he'd entered. 

Remus can do nothing but sit, stunned and confused until the gaggle of chatter echoing down the corridor has long stopped and the castle falls into darkness. 

*** 

The same thing happens the next night, and the night after that, and the night after that. By Saturday Remus is ready to pin Severus against a wall and either demand to know just what kind of game he was playing or have his way with him right then and there. He does neither, of course. 

By the time Sunday rolls around, Remus is ready to count his losses and move on. Now Severus know that he's not only a werewolf but also a pervert, he has two forms of blackmail up his sleeve. Remus would be out of Hogwarts before the year's end. Perhaps he should just leave now, but he’s terrified of what sick insinuation Severus might make to whichever grasping journalist gets to him first, eager to smear Remus' name with as much mud as possible, all over the Prophet's front page no doubt. 

He would take the potion tonight and enjoy one more transformation free from the fear that has plagued him for so long, but before that he would confront Severus. Find out exactly what he was planning. He wouldn't let that stiff, smug smile go unchallenged yet again. 

It's seven o'clock and Remus is still waiting, tensely poised in front of the door as though braced for attack. 

Eight o'clock and he's still in the exact same spot. 

Nine o'clock gives way to agitated pacing. 

Before the hand of his rusted watch hits ten, Remus has palmed open his door and stormed his way down to the dungeons in a bind rage. He pushes into Severus' office abruptly. The startled expression on Severus' face as he looks up from behind his desk disappears almost instantly, replaced by that infuriatingly placid smile. 

"Lupin, how may I help you?" 

"Just what kind of game are you playing?!" Remus blurts out, forgoing all plans for a reasoned conversation. 

"Game?" Severus puts down his quill. "I'm not quite sure-" 

"Just get it over with! Whatever you're going to do to me – just do it!" 

Something like softness creeps into Severus' expression, then. He clicks his tongue slowly. "So impatient..." he murmurs. Then he clicks his fingers. 

Remus doesn't understand what's happening to him at first. All he knows is that his arms have jerked upwards and his whole body is stretched uncomfortably taut. A panicked glance upward confirms that he's been bound by the wrists again by tight, black cords, suspended from the ceiling so that he  has to dance on tiptoe to stay upright. By the time he fully understands just what is happening, Severus is already up and walking slow circles around him. 

"It's clear from last time, Lupin, that you have little self-control," Severus is saying, raking his eyes over Remus as he continues his prowling. "Something I'd be more than happy to help you with." 

The buttons of  Remus' shirt are slowly undoing themselves one by one. The feeling of the fabric brushing against his chest as it falls open is enough to make his skin burn. As if he's already being touched. 

Severus stops his circling to stand behind him. He's so close that Remus can feel a few strands of dark hair tickles the back of his neck. 

"So," he says, reaching around to undo  Remus' trousers with his slender fingers. "I'm going to have to be more direct with you about what I want this time. First, I don't want you to come...at all." 

Remus lets out a small whine as Severus traces his hand over the waistband of his boxers. 

"Second, I don't want you begging me to get you off either." 

The whine becomes louder and more pathetic when Severus’ hand moves lower to graze the outline of  Remus' stiffening cock. 

"Come now," Severus breathes. "Surely this won't be so difficult? Having said that, if you do genuinely want this – what was it you called it? 'Game'? - if you want it to stop all you have to do is say-" he pauses for a moment and Remus feels him turn his head as if he's looking around the room for inspiration, "-flobberworm." 

Despite everything, Remus snickers. "Really?" 

"It has to be memorable," Severus says with an edge of defensiveness. "Soon you won't be thinking clearly to recall anything more...mundane." 

Then Remus makes a sound that is certainly nothing like laughter when Severus reaches down and curls those fingers around his cock. Remus has been used to his own touch for so long that the feeling of someone else's hand is strange at first, but it all too quickly turns divine. The slow controlled strokes, the unsuspected pauses and changes in pace, the feeling of relinquishing compete control to another person. It's enough for Remus to risk sinking his body back and resting against Severus with a contented sigh. To his surprise, he's rewarded with a hot tongue on his neck, the hand on his cock pumping faster and faster still with each moan of pleasure Remus lets out. Soon he's feeling the build of pressure, the rush of heat, every muscle in his body tense and on the edge. 

And then Severus stops, lets his hand fall away cruelly. Remus strains against his bindings, a writhing, panting mess. 

"That was good," Severus purrs in his ear, "for a start." 

A start? Oh god. 

As the rest of  Remus' clothes fall away, leaving him naked yet still warm despite the chill of the dungeons, he had to admit that Severus had been right – his thinking had gone so far out the window he'd almost forgotten what the point of their  _ game  _ even was. 

Severus disappears for a moment before coming back into view, every inch of his body still covered by his usual black robes, making Remus feel more exposed than ever. There's something in his hand but Remus is too busy clamping his mouth shut and forcing himself not to start pleading already to notice what it is. Severus’ mouth twists into a smirk as he looks up into  Remus' face. When he touches Remus again, his hand is slathered in a hot, tingling lubricant and it isn't long before a string of curses  are tumbling from  Remus' mouth. 

He continues like this several more times. Whether it's a slow, torturous build or relentlessly hard and fast, Severus always manages to stop once he's painfully, impossibly close. Remus hisses and groans and bucks into the air, but, somehow, manages not to beg for release. Despite the fact that the inside of his head is a constant chant of please, please, please, fucking PLEASE. 

Severus manages to keep a cool, distant composure throughout it all...except once. When Remus, having lost count of the number of times he's felt an orgasmic hitch in his belly only for it to ebb bitterly away, hears Severus' moan along with him. Then he presses cock, hard and wanting beneath his robes, up against  Remus’ thigh. This causes Remus to dare and think that maybe – finally – Severus won’t stop this time, that he’ll keep working that glorious hand until he's drained every drop from him. But, of course, he isn't that merciful. 

Instead, Severus lays his head on Remus' chest, listens to him almost sob with frustration before saying in a whisper: "I'm going to use my mouth now. Do you think you can handle it?" 

No. Remus most certainly cannot  fucking handle it! He's amazed he hasn't come from the threat alone, right then and there. But what choice does he have? He's certainly not going to use Severus' ridiculous safeword. 

Remus closes his eyes to avoid the sight of Severus on his knees in front of him. He's imagined it enough, and - not that he has any hope of surviving this - could do without the visual stimulation. He needn't have bothered, though, for the moment Severus wraps his hot, wet mouth around him, Remus is unable to stop his hips from thrusting back into it. Any thought to the consequences forgotten as he rides wave after wave of blinding pleasure, releasing into him with a cry of pure ecstasy. 

Once it's over, Remus goes limp in his restraints, rests his head on one of his arms, still suspended in the air... and waits. 

"Dear, dear," says Severus. 

Even through his haze, Remus can tell that Severus is trying to put some of that commanding, fierceness back into his voice but it just comes out sounding raw with desire. 

"Can you not even follow two simple instructions, Lupin?" He stands up, wiping his glistening mouth on the back of his hand. "Or did just not care about the punishment for not doing so? I did mention there would be a punishment... didn't I?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

At first it was nothing, the lightest touch of an open palm on Remus' bare flesh. When Severus had asked him to bend over the desk - _'No, not like that. Hands down flat. Spread your legs wider. Wider. Good.'_ \- this hadn't exactly been what he'd expected. Remus had heard about people doing this of course, but it had always sounded silly, if not outright ridiculous, rather than sexy. And, indeed, that's how it had felt...at first anyway. 

But Remus had underestimated just how quickly those light slaps to his backside would build into an almost pleasurable heat. 

"Do you deliberately try to disappoint me, Lupin?" Severus punctuates his question with his first hard smack. The sound of its impact - along with Remus' yelp, more of surprise than pain - echoes around the stone dungeon room. Remus hopes that it's soundproof. 

When another blow doesn't appear, Remus realises Severus is expecting an answer. "N-no..." 

"Really?" He starts his rhythmic motion back up again, each one the same intensity as the last. "Then perhaps...you wanted this?" 

"I..." 

Remus' words are lost to a sharp intake of breath as the blows start coming harder and faster, the sting has barely started to fade before another one comes. Instead of shying away from them, Remus finds he's craving more, leaning his burning ass into each hard slap. He's moaning now, almost as if he were being fucked. It almost feels like he is. Remus is starting to wonder if there was something in that lubricant as his cock has grown impossibly hard again. 

"Look at you," says Severus, never once letting up his pace. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were actually enjoying this..." 

His taunt elicits the loudest groan from Remus yet. The desk shifts and creaks under him as Severus continues to spank him over and over. 

Then the slaps suddenly stop, replaced instead by a feeling that's almost unbearable; Severus running his fingernails lightly over Remus' tender skin. Remus winces, shrinks away from the sensation, but, being pressed up against the desk, there's nowhere to go. Severus' touch is unrelenting and there's no escaping it. 

Then, all of sudden, it stops. The relief is short-lived as Remus finds himself craving more. He can feel Severus moving in closer behind him, hear the rustle of his robes being shifted out of the way, making his pulse quicken with excitement. Remus cranes his neck to look at him only to be chastised immediately – _'Head down. Now.'_ He obeys. Breathing hard he stares down at the knotted wood in anticipation. 

"I was going to fuck you, Lupin." 

Remus lets out a whimper of impatience at the feeling of Severus' cock pressing hard against him. 

"But I just don't think you deserve it yet..." 

Severus leaves one hand free to continue caressing Remus' red-hot ass while stroking himself with the other. Remus keeps both his hands and his eyes glued firmly to the desk, but he knows exactly what's happening from the heavy breaths and the motion of his hand that is becoming increasingly urgent despite his continued effort to remain composed. Remus wants Severus inside him desperately. Wants to see his harsh features soften with pleasure. And he wants to be the one to give that pleasure to him. The fact that he has to simply lie there, splayed out over the desk, a mere object for Severus to get himself off to, is a special kind of cruelty. 

It's cruelty, but the sweetest kind. 

It isn't long before Severus lets out a poorly suppressed groan and Remus feels the first warm drops of release hit his cheeks. Severus collapses on top of him, shuddering as he rides it out to the end. His rests a steadying hand on the desk, so close to Remus' own. Before he knows what he's doing, Remus reaches out to touch him. Just the barest brushing of fingers. At first, he expects Severus to pull away, but he doesn't and, for a moment, it's pure bliss. 

But afterwards come the inevitable clearing of throats as Severus awkwardly extracts himself. Remus remains bent over, awaiting permission to get up and secretly hoping their encounter isn't over quite yet, as Severus sorts his robes back into place. 

"Clean yourself up and get dressed," Severus says. "I shall prepare your potion. It's what you're here for, after all." 

Remus does as he's asked, his blissful state fast turning back to one of sickened confusion. Severus' voice had been filled with just as much contempt for Remus as it usually was. But he thought he could detect something else behind it, too. 

Once Remus is decent, Severus hands him the smoking goblet without meeting his eye and Remus understands what it is. 

Shame. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bunny-Bopper doesn't update for two weeks then only posts an 800 chapter? Wow. I'm going to try post the next one soon! Also this got very 'Secretary' but can you blame me? It's, like, the hottest movie ever made.


	6. Chapter 6

The fact that Remus' biggest fear was the full moon only made sense. For the average wizard, it was, of course, irrational. Leftover superstition from a time when their oppression did not allow them the same control over their magic as they had now. But for Remus, its approach meant real danger, not only for himself but everyone around him. He supposed he should be used to it by now, but each time he was terrified. Of what he would inevitably become, of the irreversible harm he could inflict on himself, of the very real possibility he could kill someone, or worse, force them to suffer the same fate. 

But the thing that scared him the most was that other feeling the moon evoked in him. That one he tried to bury deep inside but would only grow stronger with each passing phase. The feeling he could only describe as craving. 

Severus had begun to evoke that very same feeling in him. The same dark pull. The same desire to abandon everything calm, rational, and reasoned. To surrender himself completely. 

Perhaps the fact that their encounters had been tied so closely to the moon was the reason none of it felt real when it was over. Much like his time spent as a wolf, Remus could recall every touch, every whispered word, in perfect detail, but still, it felt as though the memories belonged to someone else. 

After yet another miserable transformation, Remus was convinced the dangerous game the two of them had been playing was over. Severus had now taken to ignoring him completely, and Remus had not yet worked up the courage to approach him first. What would he even have said? Anyway, it wasn't like he expected Severus Snape to sit down and have a heart to heart with him about his feelings. The man seemed to take immense pleasure in being an enigma. 

As the days passed by, Remus made every effort to convince himself it was for the best. They had both been risking what was left of their reputations - not to mention their careers - by having any kind of physical relationship with one another, let alone one so...unconventional. He decided that he would bury this strange yearning deep down where it belonged, with all the other parts of himself he didn't care to look at too closely. He knew from experience that the ache it left behind would disappear eventually.

Then Christmas happened. 

As much as Remus detested the sympathetic looks and barrage of questions it elicited from people, he wasn't above using his condition to get out of situations he really didn't want to be in. Sitting with Severus at the staff table every mealtime hadn't exactly done much for his appetite, but the thought of an intimate Christmas dinner with him and the few remaining students and teachers was positively nauseating. So he'd done what he did best and declined the Headmaster's kind offer claiming the lingering aftereffects of the not-so-recent full moon. But still, he couldn't resist heading down to the Great Hall early, just to take in the atmosphere of a Hogwarts' Christmas day, if only for a few solitary minutes. 

Remus didn't know quite what possessed him to do it. Once he had seen the plump, sliver cracker perched festively at the head of the table, the thought simply overtook him. It didn't take much to transfigure whatever tacky prize lay inside it - just a quick flick of his wand, a muttered spell, and it was done. Creeping out of the Hall, part of Remus wished he were staying for dinner. Just to see what kind of look Severus would give him once a vulture-topped hat fell onto the table. 

*** 

By the next afternoon, Remus is increasingly confident that his little prank has had the desired effect. He trusts Severus to know the meaning behind it: that however reckless this game was, Remus still wanted it to continue. The fact that Severus hadn't burst into Remus quarters last night and hexed the living daylights out of him was a good sign anyway. 

Unable to tolerate the anticipation, Remus takes himself out for a Boxing Day walk as a form of distraction. It was one of those rare days where the castle and grounds were hidden under a thick blanket of snow. Remus enjoys the quiet that came with it, how the world seems softer, more forgiving. 

He ends up spending longer out in it than intended. Even stopping to chat with Hagrid, who's busy worrying what the cold weather will do to his Screwts. (Although this concern appears unfounded as the horrifying things have already melted everything in sight.) 

Remus almost expects Severus to be waiting for him when he finally trudges back to the castle, but, of course, he isn't. Once inside, Remus makes a beeline for the staff room, intent on warming himself up with a mug of hot chocolate. Again, he's disappointed to find the room empty. Trying his best not to be disheartened, he busies himself making his drink. 

Mug in hand, Remus walks instinctively over to the worn little armchair he had claimed as his own. He stops in his tracks when he sees that there is something on it: a small box wrapped in green and silver paper, all tied up in an elegant black bow. Feeling a now-familiar thrill flow through him, Remus rushes to examine it, nearly spilling hot chocolate all over himself in the process. Sure enough, the tiny label has 'Remus' scratched on it in Severus' spidery hand. He tears it open without thinking and... 

"Surely he can't be serious..." Remus says aloud. 

"Who can't be serious?" 

Remus whips around to see Minerva, whose tight bun and pursed lips aren't taking a break for the holidays, walking into the room. 

"Oh, nothing! It's nothing!" replies Remus, laughing too loudly as he shoves the lid back onto the box and wraps the torn paper tightly back around it for good measure. "Severus just left me a joke present, that's all." 

"Severus?" she asked, eyebrows shooting up to her hairline. "I've never known him to give gifts, let alone make jokes...not unless they are at the expense of the Gryffindor Quidditch team." 

"First time for everything, I suppose!" 

"What is it?" she asked, an accusatory tone creeping into her voice. 

"It's...ah...private joke. Take too long to explain. Besides, I really must be going. Lots of work to do." Remus is half-way out of the room before he's finished his sentence. 

"Work? On Boxing Day?" she asks, eyeing him sternly from behind her spectacles. 

"I'm afraid I've got a lot to catch up on. It's been a particularly bad month..." 

Minerva's expression – along with her tone – softens instantly. "Of course. Do let me know if there's anything I can do." 

Remus shoots her a meek smile before hurrying out the door. He feels a little guilty about playing the werewolf card again but needs must and all that. 

*** 

The moment he's safely back in his quarters, he carefully places the box down on the nearest table. Slowly, he lifts the lid, hoping he was somehow wrong about what was inside. But no, it was what he thought it was: a pair of women's underwear. 

And a note. 

_ I suspect witch's clothing will suit you far better than it did me.  _

Remus groans as he removes his gift from the box. He examines them gingerly, holding them out at a distance between thumb and forefinger. They are of good quality. Black. Impractically flimsy. So flimsy, in fact, they wouldn't leave much for the imagination to fill in. He drops them back in the box before examining the note again, flipping it over to reveal further instruction. 

_ Ten o'clock. My quarters. _

*** 

Remus wonders just how his little stunt was able to backfire so spectacularly. The corridors are mercifully quiet as he makes his way down to the dungeons,  and thank merlin, he doesn't run into anyone. Though it's so dark down here, he doubts anyone would notice his red face or the slightly awkward way he's walking. Gods, but these things were tight. Remus suspected they would be too small as soon as he'd looked at them. 

And he'd spent a long time looking at them. Who knew how many times he brought them out of their little box before wrapping them back up in the crinkly tissue paper they came in? He even went as far as throwing the whole thing in the bin once. It was only a fraction of a second before he was fishing them back out again. 

Finally, he'd put them on. Just to see if he could actually go through with this. Standing naked in his room with his heart pounding, he'd stepped one foot in, then the other. The unfamiliar lace dragged across his skin as he pulled the knickers up. He was half-way hard before they were over his hips. 

When he'd looked at himself in his full-length mirror, he'd been surprised to find that he didn't look anywhere near as ridiculous as he'd imagined. In fact, he could rather see the appeal. He'd palmed himself experimentally through the tight lace. The rough burn only left him wanting more so he'd allowed himself to continue for just a moment longer. He'd watched himself in the mirror as the colour rose in his cheeks and lips parted. Had imagined it was Severus watching him, with the hint of a sneer playing on his lips. 

He'd quickly whipped them off after that. Guessing that it wouldn't go down well if he came in his knickers before Severus had the chance to appreciate them. 

And now, finally, he's here. Standing in Severus' quarters for the very first time. He had been greeted at the door this time, Severus had led him inside with a satisfied smirk and knowing eyes that lingered too long at his crotch. Remus can't help but think that perhaps Severus has missed his company. 

"Strip," Severus commands almost at once. 

Well, he missed something at any rate, but perhaps it wasn't Remus' company. 

Remus does as he's told. Tries distracting himself from his humiliation by casting glances around the dimly lit room, but it's a fool's errand. He takes in only flashes of it: a book upturned on the arm of a plush chair; a half-empty glass of red wine perched on a table; a dark landscape hanging on the wall; the soft glow of a small fire in the centre of the room. It's impossible to focus on anything under the intensity of Severus' gaze. 

Just like when he becomes the wolf, everything is heightened. The sound of his shaky breaths, the swish of fabric as his robes fall to the floor, the hammer of his heart as he offers himself up for scrutiny, the pinch of his flesh as the too-tight waistband digs into his sides. 

Severus' stern expression falters for a moment at the sight of him. Perhaps he didn't think Remus would really be bold enough to follow through with his instructions. Perhaps he was never really meant to, and this was all some elaborate test that Remus has failed. But then it's back in place in an instant. 

"Seems I was right. This sort of thing does suit  _ you _ far better." 

He circles around him, taking him in from every angle, manipulating him as he sees fit – chin up, arms back, nowhere to hide. Not that Remus wants to. His cock is already throbbing, the crush of the tightening fabric stimulating him even more. When Severus finally brushes his hand over it, he whimpers. 

The whimper turns into a whine, somewhere between pleasure and pain, as Severus grabs the waistband and twists. 

Severus presses in against him, the buttons of his robes rubbing against Remus' bare chest. He tilts his face, breathes warm breath into Remus' mouth, and, just for a moment, Remus thinks Severus is going to kiss him. His lips tingle in anticipation. 

But he doesn't. Remus feels nothing but the lightest brush of his lips as he says, "Good. Now get on your knees." 

Feeling slightly giddy, Remus sinks down in front of him. His breath catches in his throat as Severus starts unbuttoning the front of his own robes. Was he finally going to let Remus touch him? For a moment, Remus wonders just how things got to this point. How had Severus – a man for which, until recently, he had felt nothing but a quiet resentment for – managed to reduce him to this state in only a few short weeks. How did he find himself in a position where he would do anything, even parade through the castle in women's underwear, just to get his approval? Perhaps Severus had been right in the beginning. Remus was mad. Or desperate. 

All these thoughts evaporate as Severus eases down his trousers just enough. Although they were only grazed, Remus' lips still burn from Severus' false promise of a kiss. He wants nothing more than to wrap them around the cock standing hard and ready in front of him. But can he really? He looks up at Severus, seeking permission. He receives it in a look. One that says, 'what are you waiting for?'. And his eyes say something else as well: that he needs this just as much as Remus does. 

Remus lets out a hum of pleasure as he takes Severus in his mouth. He's so pent up from the anticipation of it all, wound up so tightly from the ever-mounting frustration Severus causes, that he has to force himself to take things slowly. To tease. To draw this out for as long as he can. Because who knew when it would be happening again?

Already Remus is unable to stop the gentle rock of his own hips. The knickers feel tighter than ever, and they squeeze him in a way that's almost like being touched. Almost. Remus groans around Severus' cock and takes him further into his mouth. Severus has been near silent up until now, but Remus doesn't miss breath hitch in his breath or the tiny jerk of his hips as Remus starts to move his head back and forth, finally sucking him properly. 

Emboldened by his reaction, Remus slides one hand up Severus' thigh, tensed hard underneath his robes. The other he wraps around the base of Severus' cock, stroking it in time with his mouth. This earns him a gentle sigh from Severus, who runs his long fingers through Remus' hair. Remus risks a glance upwards and sees that Severus' eyes are closed, his face relaxed, more so than Remus has ever seen it before. It takes away some of the harshness of his features, and this, along with the slight flush of his cheeks, makes him look almost...well, not beautiful...but alluring, nonetheless. 

"Well done," Severus murmurs, twisting Remus' hair around his fist and holding it steady. 

The praise is almost too much for Remus. Although Severus is the one getting his cock sucked, he's the one moaning. Remus has always enjoyed giving, but it's been so long he'd forgotten just how good it feels. The tight lace of the knickers rubs against his cock as he rocks harder still. He can feel a wetness start to seep through them. God, he wants to free himself from them so badly. A few tugs of his straining cock is all it would take for him to come right now with Severus hard in his mouth. 

But he doesn't. He wants to focus on Severus, who is already getting close himself. He's thrusting back into Remus' mouth, tightening his grips on Remus' hair as if to keep him in place. Not that he's going anywhere. Right now, the only place in the world Remus wants to be is down here on his knees. But then Severus' hips give a final stutter, and Remus hears him fail to suppress a groan as he tips over the edge. Remus feels the warmth of his release in his mouth, but he doesn't stop until Severus is forcing him off. 

Within moments, Severus has composed himself, neatly tucking himself back into his robes. Remus is still panting on the floor when Severus orders him to stand. By the time he gets to his feet, Remus is on a knife-edge, his constricted cock throbs painfully, the knickers have ridden half-way up his ass from grinding against them so much. He must look a state. 

And yet, the look on Severus' face is one of satisfied approval as he reaches down for the waistband again and tugs. It's more than Remus can take; he cries out. His knees buckle. And then he's coming messily into his little, lacy knickers. 

Severus lets out a low hum of laughter as Remus continues to buck through the last of his orgasm. Even though the pleasure, Remus burns with embarrassment. Humiliation. And he's never felt so good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said I would do weekly updates? What fools we both were! 
> 
> Slowing down updates for this because life but I won't abandon it :)


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